


confession / absolution

by duckbunny



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckbunny/pseuds/duckbunny
Summary: Molly risks a glance over his shoulder – Caleb is a private kind of man, he won’t want to be stared at – and sees eyes so wide that Molly might have been ten foot of venom and claws. “No,” he says, slowly, “I don’t think you want to be alone. What’s up?"





	1. Chapter 1

“You know what, never mind. It’s fine. We’ll take the room.”

“I really am sorry about that,” the barkeep says, “it’s just we weren’t expecting a big group this late in the day and I can’t move the kids-”

“Really, it’s fine,” Molly says again. “We’re fresh off the road and we’ve slept in much less pleasant conditions. Could we just trouble you for an extra blanket or two, to keep things comfortable?”

To keep space between their bodies, he means, and the halfling picks up on it. Worry eases off her broad face. “Of course, of course, we can do that for you. I’ll send Isaac up to get the rooms ready, give him half an hour and you’ll have fires and the beds all ready for you. Will you be wanting some water on to heat?”

“Yes, _please_. I think I may have algae growing on my horns.”

“Well, for a proper soak you’ll have to wait for Lucille to open in the morning, but we can give you a basin to clean up with.”

“That sounds perfect. Could we also get a meal here? Did we roll into town too late for that?”

She cocks her head, considering. Molly makes sure to heft his purse where she can see, ostensibly to pay for the rooms – he’s running light, until they can sell some swag tomorrow, but it does the job of lifting the barkeep’s frown. “I can ask the kitchens, sure. We can fix you up with something. It might be tomorrow’s breakfast, at this hour, but it’ll fill you up.”

Molly forks over some gold. “Even bread and dripping would be very welcome.”

“I’ll bring it out to you. Isaac will come find you with your keys when the rooms are ready. Okay?”

“Great. Thank you.”

 

Molly wanders back through the cramped room to the rest of the Mighty Nein, where they have settled near the big hearth to nurse their wounds and their drinks.  Fjord and Yasha are large enough to be seen across a crowd but he knows, and scolds himself for it, that he’s scanning for Caleb’s scruffy coat.

“We have food on the way,” he announces. “It cost a bit, but this is a halfling inn, so it’ll be plentiful.”

Caleb  tips his head  back against the plastered wall, looking up . “Did they have beds?”

“Very nearly.” Molly drops onto the bench beside him and picks up his drink, red wine warmed by ginger and cloves. “No, everyone stop fussing, it’s fine. We’re going to sleep indoors tonight. She only had three rooms, that’s all. There’s a dorm for the girls and then Caleb and Fjord can fight over the single and loser shares the double with me.”

“Yeah,” Fjord says, heavily, “no offence, cause I know we all got into it, but after the beating I took today...”

“Ja, of course. Mollymauk and I can take the double. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Caleb sits up a little, resettling his coat around him. Molly shrugs, as if it made no difference to him.

“Works for me. I’ll let you have a pillow.”

“That is very generous of you – Is that for us?”

Beau cranes her neck around Yasha’s bulk. “Oh, man. Is that bacon? Molly, is that bacon? Did you buy us bacon?”

“I wasn’t specific,” Molly says, “but she did say we might get breakfast food.”

“ _Excellent,_ ”, Nott says, emptying her glass. _“_ Meat.”

Fjord leans forward, wincing at every movement, and makes room on the table for the heavy tray.

 

Isaac is a nervous-looking half-elf who brings them their room keys with hardly a word. They share them out, drifting out of their  huddle  into the welcoming inn. Yasha goes outside to star-gaze, promising she won’t wander far. Caleb scrubs at his eyes.  Molly tries not to stare at him, or to notice how exhaustion deepens the tiny creases around his mouth. “Then I will come with you, ja? And put my little thread around the cart.”

“Yah, okay,” Yasha agrees. “And then you should sleep.”

“I will, I will. Is anyone else coming?”

“No, I’m going to bed, soon as I can persuade my legs to move,” Fjord says. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

B eau stares across the room, forgetting the niceties of “goodnight” and “see you tomorrow” as their companions start getting up. “They’ve got a dartboard,” she says instead. “Anyone else want to play?”

“Do you play darts?” Jester has been trying to tempt Frumpkin with bits of bacon rind, but she turns her head to look at Beau, still bent awkwardly over the table with the cat rubbing against her arm. “Are you good at it?”

“I dunno, I haven’t played since I learned to throw those, you know, star thingies -”

“Oh, your throwing stars? That ought to make you _really good_ at darts. I want to see that.  I bet it’s really impressive. We should have a game.”

“It’s not as good with just two though. Hey, Molly, you want to play? Nott?”

“Sure, I’m in.” Molly flexes his wrists. “I think me and Nott could probably take you.”

“No, I’m on Jester’s team.”

Molly sets his hand over his heart, mock-offended.  “You’re abandoning me?”

“She’s stronger than you,” Nott says, predictably straightforward. “I can sit on her shoulders to take my turn and that way I won’t have to aim upwards.”

“Alright, yeah. That’s fair. Can’t argue with that. So me and Beau, then. We’re still going to win, it’s just that Beau’s going to do all the work.”

“Am I?” Beau eyes him suspiciously. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing. Honestly, nothing, I just have lousy aim. I tell you what, I’ll make up for it. I’ll go and ask our generous hosts if we can rent some darts.”

 

It’s well past midnight when they finish their game. Molly has laughed more than his two drinks can account for, warm and bubbling with the relief of being alive. It came close, today, but they’re all still here, they’re safe and they’re fed and it’s enough to make him silly. Beau can aim a dart, Molly  was useless, and Nott drove them all into the dirt.  He doesn’t mind. He’ll win those silvers back next time they play at dice.

The double room is barely fit for the name – the door won’t open fully, jammed against the corner of the bedframe. There isn’t enough floor for anyone to sleep on and Caleb seems to have come to the same conclusion, sprawled as he is across the bed. Sprawled diagonally across the bottom, with the comforter gathered in his arms for a pillow. Molly shuts the door behind himself and gnaws on his knuckle. He shakes Caleb chastely by the ankle.

“Wake up, sleepyhead, you’re taking up the whole bed.”

Caleb blinks his way out of sleep. There’s pink in his cheeks even by the dim firelight, and a soft smile as he looks at Molly. He rolls onto his back, one arm above his head. Molly snorts quietly,  mostly at his own absurd moment of hope .

“You want me to give you a minute?”

“I… what?”

Molly busies himself with the little hearth, checking the temperature of the water left beside it, not looking in Caleb’s direction. He saw enough when Caleb stretched,  pressed against his thin sleep clothes . “For your,  uh , situation. Really, I don’t mind. I can take a walk.”

“For my-” Caleb goes quiet mid-sentence. Molly wonders if he’s even breathing, until he says, very flatly, “Sorry.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. These things happen. Can’t blame you for having good dreams.” Molly risks a glance over his shoulder – Caleb is a private kind of man, he won’t want to be stared at – and sees eyes so wide that Molly might have been ten foot of venom and claws. “No,” he says, slowly, “I don’t think you want to be alone. What’s up? Different kind of dream?”

Caleb shakes his head. His mouth works for a minute before he manages, “Sorry,” again, and shuffles up the bed. He’s propped up on his elbows, staring out of the room into somewhere else entirely. Molly recognises the look.

He  sits on the edge of the bed . “You don’t have to apologise to me. And I really will take a walk, if you like, and leave you to yourself. I’ve done it before in the circus. It’s not a problem.”

“It is,” Caleb says, quiet and expressionless. “I – it -” His breath catches in his throat, its rhythm lost. “Could – ah – could you, lock the door, please?”

Molly  stands  and takes the two steps to the door. He stops with his hand on the latch. “With myself inside or out?”

“Ah – in.”

 

The lock is barely worth the name, Nott could break it in her sleep, but Molly turns the key anyway and leaves it in the door. He takes off his coat, still  moving  slow ly , trying to give Caleb time to  hide under the blankets or whatever this is about.  He doesn’t  _need_ to hide, but he’s prickly -

No good. Caleb is still  collapsed in on  himself, his breathing still raggedly shallow. Well, Molly’s done  the same , when he was fresh out of the earth. He  hated being treated like a broken thing then .  He tries to ignore the way his chest aches for Caleb’s panic. “Can I take the side by the wall?”

Caleb has his eyes screwed closed. “Ja,” he says, cutting the word short, as if even that much might set off a mousetrap. Molly shuffles around the bed to avoid climbing over him.

“Get under the blankets, come on. It’s far too cold for you to be out there in your nightclothes. Or to lift the blankets up later and let all my warm air out. Come on, in you get.”

They manage it, awkwardly, Caleb curling on his side in a careful imitation of sleep, his back to Molly. It might have been convincing, if Molly wasn’t listening to him struggling to breathe.  Two months ago he would have left Caleb to his nightmares and done his best to doze off – and fair play to him, Caleb is trying to make that easy for him, with his stillness and his silence. It won’t do now. This isn’t a stranger he doesn’t have to care about. It’s – well. It’s Caleb.

Molly licks his lips, putting his words in order. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There’s no answer at first. Just a jagged intake of breath, deeper than before, and a hunch of the already-tense shoulders.

“How much,” Caleb says at last, whispering into the darkness, “how much do you know about my – my past? My childhood?”

Molly shifts, pillowing his head on his arm. “Not a lot,” he says honestly. “I don’t like to pry. Not with people I like. You’ve never talked about it.”

“No, I don’t do that for a reason, I-” Caleb stops himself, catching that flow of words while he still can. He starts again, soft and deliberate. “When I was – about fourteen – I was sent away to, to study. We were not allowed, ah, privacy, there, and my – my caretakers – they disapproved of – some things – and -”

Molly speaks into the gap left by Caleb wrestling with his breath. “You weren’t allowed to masturbate, is what you’re saying.”

He shudders bodily. “Ja. Ja, that is – and when I was a little older, a young man, really, I was given to – to – someone else, and he, he, he really liked to have ways to –  control – me -”

He rolls onto his front, suddenly, in response to some internal pressure. His hands snake under the pillow and Molly thinks he’s gripping, holding the top of the mattress as tight as he can, his body tense as a bowstring with his feet hooked over the bottom edge. He’s a shape under the blankets but Molly with his good eyes can see too much of it and his heart breaks.

He rests his hand between Caleb’s  hunched shoulders,  pushing down on the little imp inside him that would take satisfaction in getting to finally  _touch_ that slender shape. Caleb gasps at the  contact .

“It’s alright,” Molly says, keeping his voice low, to soothe. “I’m just going to rub your back. I won’t do anything else without warning you. You still with me in there?”

Caleb nods, short and sharp into the  shelter of his arms.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“I, I am, ah, I am in an inn called the Sheep’s Leg, and we are on our way to, to an abandoned temple, because there is something lurking in there, and we think, we think we will not be paid for this job but that is okay because there will be something in there maybe worth selling, and it is a Tuesday – no, it is Wednesday now, we are past midnight, and it is nearly midwinter.” His breathing has settled through the recitation and Molly just keeps stroking him, long slow circles down his spine and back up. “There, see? I know exactly where I am.”

“Glad to hear it. I want you to stay right here with me.”

Caleb ducks his head, pressing his face against his arms, and Molly has a twist of fear in his belly that he might be doing exactly the wrong thing, if it makes Caleb want to hide.  He speaks anyway. “Caleb, sweetheart? What are you expecting to happen right now?”

The sudden ragged gasp is horrible, and worse for not being surprising. 

“Not that I think you’re really expecting it, rationally. You’re too smart for that. You know who I am, and that I’m not going to hurt you. It’s just your body is waiting for something. What’s your body expecting, Caleb?”

Even to Molly’s sharp senses, Caleb’s reply is almost inaudible. He whispers it without turning his head.

“To be caned.”

Of course. Of course. Molly’s blood boils, a hot flush rising under his skin. Of course those  _fuckers_ beat him. Over and over, until he can’t dream without fearing it.  Like the scars on Molly’s skin, carried with him from another life. Like tattoos he had no choice in getting.

“I’m not going to do that,” he says, trying to stop the growl from creeping into his voice. “I’m not _ever_ going to do that, or anything like it.  You’re safe here, with us. With me.”

“I know,” Caleb says, rubbing his forehead against his arms. “I know that. I don’t – believe it, but I know it.”

“Let me convince you,” Molly says, as quiet as Caleb can be, so quiet he could almost persuade himself it went unheard. Almost, if he couldn’t feel Caleb’s ribs expanding under his thin shirt, or see the widening gleam of his eyes.

 

M olly waits for an answer. Makes himself wait, though his heart is pounding and his breathing wants to race to match Caleb’s. He’s caught on the curve of Caleb’s cheekbone, the lone freckle on the back of his neck.  _Let me help you_ has never been so selfish. He ought to scold himself, if he weren’t afraid to move and break the moment. When Caleb refuses he’ll have to fold himself up like a spare blanket and give him the undemanding comfort he deserves.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb whispers, carefully into the dark, “you should not – dirty yourself – with me.”

Molly’s skin tingles. “That’s some bastard with a cane talking, and I don’t care for their opinions.”

“It’s not – yes, okay, they would say that but – they would have been _right_ , about me. I am a _garbage person_ , Mollymauk. You deserve better than – I have spoiled your sleep already, but I can, I can go and sleep in the taproom, I will be fine there -”

“Bull _shit_.” Molly squeezes Caleb’s shoulder,  just shy of shaking him. “That’s not happening. If you’re uncomfortable sharing, _I_ will go downstairs. You deserve a _bed_ , Caleb. You deserve to sleep and be warm and – and have good dreams -”

Caleb’s laugh is sour as unripe plums. “I don’t know why I told you any of this.”

“It’s an old wound. Sometimes those need to be lanced. It’s the only way to get the poison out.”

He shifts beneath the blankets. Relief sparks under Molly’s ribs, as bright as realising they’re not all dead, to see him let go of the mattress and turn a little on his side,  escaping that rigid pose. “None of that is why I am garbage.”

Molly shrugs. He knows Caleb can’t see him, but it relieves his own desire to shrug. “I don’t care why you’re garbage. If you were garbage. I was garbage once and I ended up in the ground and I’m someone else now. So are you. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not.”

“It can be.”

“Then I should not ruin the new you.”

“That’s not – don’t be ridiculous -” Molly takes a deep breath, hoping Caleb can hear him trying to settle himself, to get his words in the right order. “I’m being very selfish, tonight. There didn’t have to be a girls’ room. We all know each other well enough to share. I could have let you and Nott have this one and you would never have had to face me like this. I just wanted you all to myself. Even just to sleep next to. I wanted that.”

Caleb’s eyes are fixed on his face. His mouth is open slightly, for air or with surprise, and Molly aches. “What else – do you want?”

“I want to kiss you.” Molly swallows. “I think about that a lot. I want to touch you, in oh-so-many places. And I want, because I’m very, very selfish, I want to give you what I’ve just learned you don’t give to yourself. I want to see your face when you get what you want. I want to show you how it feels to be touched gently. By me. I want to cover up your scars with Mollymauk paint.”

He stops, then, because Caleb is reaching up hesitantly towards his face. He holds still for Caleb to touch the base of his horn, to trace the curve of his brow.

“I don’t know, in the morning, whether I will be someone who can do that,” Caleb says. “I wish I could know that.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care if you want to pretend this never happened. I still want it.”

Caleb closes his eyes. There’s a crease between his eyes, a perpetual worried frown, and it deepens now. Molly can see him gathering himself to act.

“Mollymauk,” he says, every syllable delicately separate, “Mollymauk. I am – I am -” He breathes. He licks his lips, and breathes, and his fingers shiver. “Molly, I am hard again.”

 

Molly’s heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his hand drift down Caleb’s back, onto his waist. They’re under the same blankets, warmth spreading between their bodies.

“I’d like to help you with that,” he says, and Caleb’s hand slips to his neck. “If you’ll let me.”

He shudders. “You do not –  you don’t  have to.”

“I know that.” Molly rubs a small circle with his thumb, wishing the shirt wasn’t in the way. “I think you’re beautiful, and I’d like to. Please?”

“\- say that again?”

Caleb’s eyes open, despite the darkness of the room, and  focus intently on Molly. The tension  has suddenly wound up high, a held bowstring, a fiddle drawn up into tune, and Molly licks his lips hoping - “Please,” he says, and he knows he’s  said the right thing . “Please. May I?”

H e doesn’t move. He lets Caleb take his time, lifting out of his flattened hunch, getting his knees underneath himself. He  feels the hand on his face fumble for a moment, searching for a hold, and turns his head a little to put his horn into Caleb’s hand.

Caleb pushes hi m back against the pillow. Molly strains instinctively but Caleb is looming over him and half his weight seems to be on Molly’s horn. He shifts his grip, looking for a comfortable position, and their faces are very close now and Caleb has one leg between Molly’s thighs.

“Yes,” he says.

Molly reaches. He can’t look down to see, not with Caleb holding his head down like this, but he can feel the drawstring on his trousers, the waistband pulled in tight around his  bony hips. Molly has noticed their shape before and thought about licking them. He loosens the knot, reaches blindly inside, feels the heat of Caleb’s skin.  Caleb isn’t more than half erect but he gasps anyway, his whole body shaking against Molly’s hands.

“You’re so beautiful,” Molly tells him. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll never, never hurt you.”

Caleb forces a whisper out. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Molly says instantly. “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t want to do that. I just want you to feel this. I promise it feels good.”

He moves his hands, gentle as he knows how, his sharp nails carefully kept out of the way. Caleb’s cock swells under his touch. Molly is desperate to see it, taste it, but Caleb keeps him pinned. He keeps stroking instead, until Caleb is starting to leak against his palm and his breath is warm on Molly’s face and Molly  lets himself whimper. “Please?”

Caleb lifts his head to look at him. “I – I don’t – what -”

“Please kiss me,” Molly says, and Caleb sighs out something wordless and presses their foreheads together. He lets the horn go, to cling to Molly’s shoulder instead, and Molly could move up into him but he won’t betray that trust. Caleb is panting with something other than fear. He keeps his hips tilted up away from Molly and Molly’s aching dick, but they’re moving now in tiny helpless shivers.

“I, I, oh fuck,” he says, and Molly smiles up at him

“That’s right. That’s exactly right. You’re safe here. You can let yourself feel it.”

He tries to say something else, to disagree perhaps, but his eyes screw themselves close and his back arches. Molly thinks for a second he’s stopped breathing but he’s still there, panting with his mouth wide open, ingrained caution silencing him. He spills into Molly’s hands and Molly tries not to think about how long since Caleb last did that, and fails, and swallows down the lump in his throat.

“That’s right,” he says again. “That was beautiful. You’re completely perfect.”

Caleb tries to move off him and collapses partway, his head on Molly’s chest. He’s still trying to catch his breath. Molly pulls his hands free of Caleb’s clothes and wipes them on the blankets.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I – don’t think I can – reciprocate.”

Molly wriggles gently, finding a more comfortable spot on the lumpy mattress.  He’s hard as a rock. He doesn’t care.  “You don’t have to. I enjoyed that a whole lot.”

Caleb is gradually going limp.  His voice is a soft murmur,  nothing like his  earlier rasping fright. “I might be able to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” Molly tries to pull the blankets back over Caleb without disturbing him. “It’s been a long damn day.”

“I,” Caleb starts, and trails off into silence. He tightens his grip on Molly’s shirt. “Mollymauk. Stay?”

Molly wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

In the morning, Molly wakes to the sound of the door closing. He lies in his warm cocoon of blankets for a while, acutely aware of Caleb not present in them. But eventually the fuzz of sleep fades and he has to admit it’s  daytime and get up alone. He washes his face in cold water, hissing  all the while . The rest of him can wait for the bathhouse.

Caleb is sitting at their table from last night, a mug of steaming tea in his hands. The others are all  here already, gathered around to make plans for the day. Molly pulls up an empty chair.

He splits his attention between the conversation and a plate of cold toast. He can feel Nott watching him, and Jester smirking in a way he’ll have to address later, because if anyone starts teasing Caleb he will have to injure them very painfully.  There’s an apothecary they’ll need to visit, and a blacksmith who will probably pay a decent sum for the weapons they looted yesterday, but Molly maintains he only cares about the bath. He has swamp water in his hair and it needs to be fixed.

They’ve had this conversation before, in a hundred permutations. It doesn’t take long to agree, these three to this shop, those four to that, and meet up again at the bathhouse when they’ve got some gold to spend. Molly finishes his toast and starts on an energetic campaign of ignoring  how Caleb’s fingers are tapping against his mug.

“We’d better be going then,” Caleb says eventually. Molly looks up at him. “If we want to get to the apothecary before noon. The sooner the better for those mushrooms we gathered.”

“I’ll go get my shit,” Molly says, pushing away from the table. He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears Caleb say, “Ja, I will make sure I have left nothing behind,” and get up to follow him. He leans against the mantelpiece and lets Caleb lock the door.

Caleb is close enough to touch. He  _is_ touching, one blunt-fingered hand pressed against Molly’s cheek. Molly takes a deep breath and looks up into his eyes.

Caleb kisses him.

“Oh,” Molly says, when he pulls away. “I thought -”

“Ja,” Caleb agrees. “I was not exactly thinking well, at the time.”

“Well, I’m glad it came down to a yes. I feel better about life.”

Caleb is still looking at him, with all the concentration he gives to spell books. “Molly,” he says. “Mollymauk. I do not know what in the hells I am doing. But, I think, I would like to do it with you. If, if you are interested. I am very grateful for the comfort, if that is all-”

“Sweetheart. I need only two things out of life to be perfectly content.”

Caleb tilts his head. “What are those things?”

“I need a very long, very hot, very thorough bath. And then after the bath, I need you to take me to bed.”

Caleb closes his eyes. “You did hear me, about, about having no idea what I am doing? I did say that.”

“I heard you. And I remember last night, I know there’s going to be some potholes in this road. But I still think it’s going to go somewhere interesting.” Molly sets his hands on Caleb’s narrow shoulders. “I have a great, big, ridiculous crush on you, and I don’t think enough people have crushes on you. You should take advantage of the one you’ve got nearby.”

“You are a very attractive man,” Caleb says. His nose wrinkles. “Although, your hair does smell of swamp water.”

“You see? I’m in desperate need of a rendezvous with soap. You can’t do anything with me until after I get clean. Go and fetch your mushrooms.”

Molly giggles to himself, watching Caleb walk away down the stairs. He  admires Caleb’s figure and doesn’t feel bad about it. He pulls on  the purple coat,  as absurd as his unruly feelings.

“Well worth the silver,” he whispers, and follows him out of the inn.


	2. Chapter 2

When they finish their haggling and leave the blacksmith's shop, Molly drops back a little to walk with Jester. She's always easier to persuade when she's recently made some money.

Jester looks at him sidelong. "So-o, was it a good time?"

He smiles tightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do. Yes, you do! I'm talking about you and Caleb." Jester slips into a sing-song, wheedling tone. "Tell me all about it. Was he good in bed? I bet he was _terrible_ in bed, I bet -"

"Jester." Molly stops and takes her arm, turning to face her.

"What? I'm not being mean, he's just so uncomfortable with touching-"

"Jester, please listen to me. This is important. I like you, Jester, and I want to keep liking you and for that to happen, I need you to stop talking about this."

Her brow furrows in an expression too offended to be called a pout.

"Look, it's not personal. It's not you. Caleb is - you know, like you said, he's uncomfortable with personal things, he's very shy. If he thinks we're gossiping about him, if he even thinks I've told anyone it happened, he's going to be very embarrassed, and I don't want that. I don't want that to be your fault."

"Oh." Jester looks crestfallen. "Well, you know. I didn't mean anything by it. He was pretty obvious about it this morning."

"Before I came downstairs?"

"No, after."

Molly's tail twitches. _Caleb_ was the one she spotted? _After_ Molly came downstairs? That's downright flattering. "Oh. Well, that's just because you're very perceptive. I know he didn't mean for anyone to know. And I need you to listen to what I'm saying here because if you make him feel spied on and hurt, I may have to kill you."

Jester's eyes light up. "Oh, I get it! Oh, that's so cute!" She presses her hands together under her chin. "This used to happen with my mom _all_ the time."

"Wait. What exactly used to happen?"

"Oh, you know, she would have a customer, and then in the morning they would be all protective and sweet. I won't say anything. Not a word to anyone. I mean, they all know, because it was _very_ obvious this morning, but I won't talk to them about it."

Molly folds his arms. "Jester-"

"Oh! Are you going to rescue him? Are you going to steal him away from his terrible hard life and make it better and marry him? People used to say that to my mom a lot."

"Oh, gods. I've made it worse." He looks into Jester's eyes, trying to project sincerity. "Just don't talk about it? Just be discreet about it. Let _us_ be discreet about it. Because Caleb is, he's very, very shy, and he'll only get worse if he feels like he's being watched. I really don't want that. So that's why I'm asking. Just - just let it be a thing we don't talk about."

"OK, OK. I won't say anything. I really won't. But you know, it's not going to stay a secret."

"That's fine." Molly waves a hand. "It doesn't have to be a secret. Just a quiet thing, that we don't need to talk about."

"Like Yasha's wings?"

"A lot like Yasha's wings."

"OK. I won't talk about it. I promise, I'll be very quiet. We should go to the bathhouse! We have gold to spend! You can get the blood out from behind your ear."

Molly reaches up to his neck, dismayed. "Really? Ugh. Is this mine or someone else's?"

"You could lick it and find out."

"I don't think it works like that." He falls into step beside her, letting her speculate on whether different species might scab differently. Anything but his newfound protectiveness.

 

The bathhouse is communal, but split down the middle, into men's and women's sections. These small towns can be so prudish - it might be a good thing that they did the same with their rooms last night. Molly forks out the extra silver for the steam room and a soak afterwards. Fjord raises an eyebrow. "Just the scrub bath for me, thanks. I'm not in the mood to linger."

"Of course, that's no trouble," Lucille assures him, "so that's just two of you for the full experience," and Molly makes a note to buy Fjord a drink later.

Getting into the bath takes longer than he'd planned, because Molly's horns are a disaster, repeatedly dunked into the swamp during their last battle and impossible to clean on the road. He spends several minutes carefully removing his jewellery, rings and chains and studs, all of it dulled and encrusted with unknown muck. Even if it were clean, it wouldn't benefit from the steam. But it's awful, so he slides the whole mess into a spare pouch and tucks it away with his clothes. He's got some soft rags in his pack at the inn to clean it with, and in the meantime, he can give his horns a thorough wash.

Caleb has already cleaned up and moved on. Molly steps into the scrub pool with only a little hesitation to check the temperature. It's fine, a little colder than he'd like, but fine, and he starts work on getting finally, properly clean. Fjord is sitting in the corner with his eyes closed, almost underwater, soaking the gore out from under his fingernails. They don't talk, preoccupied in their own concerns, and their own spreading clouds of dirty suds.

By the time Molly feels clean, Fjord has finished and headed out to retrieve his clothes. He takes a moment to float on his back, alone in the scrub room, and anticipate. This is probably going to be awkward - a delicious, flirtatious awkwardness, a tension he plans to resolve. His hair coils beneath him in the water like his own personal backdrop. He smells of rosemary and not in the least of swamp.

This will do, for a costume.

Caleb opens both eyes when he steps into the steam room. It's more of a sweat room, really, not foggy enough from the limited steam this place can provide, but the heat in the depths of winter is still a welcome shock. Molly hasn't bothered with a towel around his waist and Caleb watches him walk over, his eyes on Molly's tattoos, in a way he carefully avoided last time they shared a bath.

He takes a deep breath as Molly settles onto the bench. "Nott knows what we got up to."

"Well, that's not surprising. Jester does, too." He raises a defensive hand. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out. I asked her not to say anything, I don't want to be gossiped about."

"Me, neither. Mollymauk, may I speak for a moment?"

"Of course."

"There is something I need to tell you, and I don't want to."

Molly curls his tail around one ankle, to keep it off the hot floor. "You don't have to."

"No, I should. Because I think once you know, you will not be interested in me, and you should know."

"I'm listening,"Molly says.

Caleb closes his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. "You can ask Nott, about me and the Soltryce Academy. She knows I'm going to tell you this, and she knows the longer version. The place I mentioned, last night, where I went to study, that was the Soltryce. They taught me magic - more magic than I already knew. The second place, was the direct tutelage of Trent Ikithon."

His words are halting. Molly can hear him choosing each step, picking his way across a chasm. He says, "The one who was interested in Yasha?"

Caleb nods. "His methods are - not the point. I learned magic there. I also learned that anything done in the name of the Empire, in its defence, was right and necessary and good. That treason must be rooted out, before it could flower."

"What changed your mind?"

"Ah - I -" Caleb lets out his breath and draws a new one. "When I was nearly ready to graduate, there was a false memory planted in my head. Of my parents, plotting against the Empire. And I was so ashamed, and so disgusted, that they could even speak of that betrayal, that when I was told - when I was ordered to kill them, I agreed that it was right."

Molly shifts to look at him straight on. The words are a cold stone dropped into his stomach but Caleb hasn't moved, still leaning against the wall, his eyes moving restlessly under their lids. He seems calm, the way a kettle on the fire seems peaceful before it screams.

"So I did it," he says at last. "I was ordered to, and I agreed, and these people who loved me, who had never been anything but wonderful to me, I murdered them."

Molly swallows. He says, "Would you do it now?"

Caleb's face crumples. His shoulders shake. It's laughter, if blackened char is food. "I would do anything to undo it. I would unwind time to bring them back. I am trying to learn, it is not easy. No, I would not do it again."

He turns to look at Molly, his eyes opening. Ordinary human eyes, with the familiar brokenness behind them. Molly digs his hands into his thighs. "That's - that's a big piece of news."

"Ja," Caleb says. "This is why you had to know. And now you know, and you do not want me, and that is fine. I don't blame you. I don't want me, either."

"How did you end up here?"

He shrugs. "I ran. I ran, and I hid, and I am still hiding. But - after. Only afterwards. I - I broke, for a while. Nott can tell you."

Molly looks at him. His hair is hanging limp, wet from the bath. Freckles on his thin shoulders. A murderer, once, and a frightened boy, and neither excusing the other. Dampness on his cheeks that is not steam.

Molly says, "I don't not want you."

"Please don't try to soften it."

"No, I'm serious."

Caleb lets out a frustrated huff. "Then you need to stop and think about it. You know, it's - What you were saying, last night, about my body expecting something? Well, your body wants mine. That is what you are feeling, it does not mean that _you_ want _me_."

"I think I do, though."

He sighs. "Enjoy your bath, Mollymauk."

"No, wait. Please." Caleb, already on his feet, stops and half turns to listen. Molly resists the impulse to hold him back. "Thank you for telling me. You didn't have to do that. I'm glad you did."

"Ja, well. You deserve better than me."

"Stop being so bloody ridiculous."

Caleb turns to face him properly, his lips parting.

"Yes, you are. So you're a murderer, so fucking what. We've all made bad decisions and not all of us regret them. Nott used to torture people, Beau wants to break the world to see if the pieces are prettier, I don't care. You fucked up, you learned from it. If you want to punish yourself, go right ahead, but don't blame it on me. I'm not the one leaving this room."

They're both breathing fast. Molly is furious, at the situation, at Caleb, at the tension between them that has nothing to do with his plans. The temptation to wrestle naked in a sauna should never be this ugly.

Eventually Caleb speaks, uncertainty hanging between every word. "I am going to go into the next room, and I am going to soak for a while, and, ah, if you have not come out then I will knock on the door when I leave, so you will know. So you can do whatever you like, with that, and - no hard feelings, if you - whatever you decide."

The door swings closed behind him. Molly thumps his head back against the wall, his horns bouncing on the warm stone.

"This is bullshit," he says aloud. "This is not how today was supposed to go."

 

Molly sits with his head tipped forward, rubbing a stiff muscle in his neck and thinking. The first rush of bravado has faded and now he's trying to imagine Caleb as he was back then. He can't imagine Caleb as _impulsive_ , not even as a teenager. Carefully and methodically, that's how Caleb makes his plans.

Did he make the plan, when his parents were marked for death?

He's worried about Yasha. Never mind the self-hating idiot in the next room - Yasha is his oldest friend, as much as that means anything, and he won't let her be recruited into some traitor-hunting magician squad. She'll have to be kept away from Ikithon somehow. Caleb's story isn't his to tell, but he doesn't have to tell her that it's Caleb's.

Caleb hasn't knocked yet. He's still waiting for Molly to decide whether to hate him.

Murdered his parents. That's hard to think about, for Molly. He doesn't remember what it's like to have those, or how it feels to love them. How much worse, than killing a stranger? How much worse than killing a friend? Could he kill Yasha, if he was ordered to? Molly doesn't care for orders, but - could he do it, if he truly believed she was plotting to betray him?

Does it matter, if Caleb is not who he was?

 

The heated floor continues into the next room. The soak pool is deeper than the one meant for scrubbing, with more steam wisping off its surface. Molly steps down into it before he meets Caleb's eyes, into water hot enough to relax what the steam room couldn't unwind.

"Hi," he says. "My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf."

Caleb laughs softly. "I am Caleb Widogast. It is nice to meet you." He tries for a smile, shy and hopeful. The guilt is still there in his eyes.

Molly pushes off the side of the pool, feeling somehow less ridiculous than if he stood up and waded. He paddles over to Caleb and settles over him, straddling his lap. He braces himself against the side. "Can I tell you the plans I had for today?"

"Ja," Caleb says, looking like he doesn't know what to do with his hands.

"I was going to get some gold, and come here and get really beautifully clean."

"So it seems like that part has, has worked out."

"Mm. I feel _wonderful_. And then there was the second part of my plan, which was to find a skinny wizard and kiss him with no clothes on."

Caleb is pink from the warmth already. He goes even pinker. "Well, I am a very skinny wizard. But we could ask if they have anyone else available, you know, if I am not to your taste."

"Nein," Molly says firmly, "you'll do perfectly." He keeps his hands on the edge of the pool, not wanting to spook Caleb with too much contact all at once - he's _prickly_ , he sends Frumpkin to deliver hugs for him, he mustn't be rushed - and leans down. He nuzzles Caleb's face, encouraging him to tilt his head to fit them together, letting his lips brush against Caleb's short beard. It's grown past the point of stubble, into softness. Caleb sighs out a silent breath, and fits their mouths together.

Molly curls his tail around Caleb's ankle. He keeps the kissing gentle, a press of lips and the tiniest flicker of tongue, until Caleb puts his hands on Molly's hips and deepens their contact. Molly lets him have his way, not drawing back until Caleb does.

"Molly," Caleb says, his voice gone husky, "did I hurt you last night?"

Molly blinks. "What? No, of course you didn't."

"I did not squash you? Or pull on your horns too hard? I think I was quite rough with them, to start-"

"I'm absolutely fine, honestly. You can do a lot worse to my horns and not injure me."

"But I do not want to, ja? It is important to me not to hurt you. Not even if - I know some people like sex to be a bit rough, but I don't think -"

"Not my thing," Molly assures him, and kisses him again. "You can be as gentle with me as you like."

He relaxes under the renewed attention. Molly lets himself stroke Caleb's face, the side of his neck, long and pale under Molly's darker skin. He slides his fingers into Caleb's hair, between the drying locks.

Caleb takes him gently by the wrist and pulls his hand away. He smiles, sadness creeping in around his eyes, and kisses Molly's fingertips. Molly follows his lead, turning his hand over in response to the soft pressure, and shivers at the brush of Caleb's lips against his palm. "I have not done this very often," he says quietly.

Molly rests his other hand on Caleb's shoulder, stroking his thumb over his collar-bone. "Have you done it ever?"

"I have had sex before," Caleb says reproachfully. "Just, not very often, and not for a while. And never in a _bath_."

Molly nods and says breezily, "It restricts our options a little bit. We could get out of the bath, but it's cold out there. I don't want to subject my delicate skin to the howling gales, if it's all the same to you.

"Wait. Restricts our options?"

Caleb looks troubled. Molly takes the opportunity to kiss his ear. "Neither of us can breathe underwater," he murmurs.

To Molly's delight, Caleb turns scarlet. "Oh. Yes, that would be, that would be something to explore, I think, but not - it would be very unwise, underwater - Molly, please don't look at me like that, it is very distracting."

"You're meant to be distracted," Molly points out. "That's part of the fun."

Caleb leans up and kisses Molly's throat, very gently. Molly feels his tail twitch where it's wrapped around Caleb's calf. He groans softly. "I did not reciprocate, last night," Caleb says.

"Don't worry about it. You don't need to apologise."

"I am not apologising. I am saying, I would like to do that. I think you would look very lovely."

Molly turns his hand in Caleb's and takes hold. He pulls, matching Caleb's careful pace, to press their hands against his own belly. "That is a magnificent idea."

Caleb isn't practiced at this. That's obvious, and not surprising. And it doesn't matter very much, because he learns fast and Molly is a sucker for a gentle touch. It's not long before he's rocking into Caleb's hand, with his face pressed against one freckled shoulder.

"Gods," he says, "don't stop, please, this is the best thing I've felt in ages." The silky skin of Caleb's dick keeps brushing against Molly thigh and it's driving him wild. "Can I touch you?"

"No," Caleb says. Molly moans, curling further into his arms. The wanting, he fucking loves the wanting. Caleb is going to wreck him with one hand and a whisper. "Tell me what you need?"

Molly takes a moment to answer, caught up in sensation. "My hair."

Fingers comb through his curls, at the back of his head. "To - pull?"

"No, just. Stroke. Please?"

Caleb rubs his scalp as if he was Frumpkin. Molly arches into it just the same way. Their rhythm is quick now, eager, and Caleb has learned that Molly whimpers when he squeezes under the head on the upstroke and how, how is he this _good_ this _fast_ -

Molly doesn't open his eyes for at least a minute afterwards. Caleb is still stroking his head, his other hand resting on Molly's hip. Molly uncoils his tail and lashes it happily through the water.

"We probably should not have done that," Caleb says eventually. "This is the clean water pool."

He waves one hand through the air. "That's why we gave them so much money."

"It is good that you are not loud. I think there is someone in the steam room."

Molly coughs and scrambles out of his lap. "Really? I didn't notice."

"Well, you were meant to be distracted, ja?" Caleb looks extremely smug for someone whose cock is still hard. "So then, later, perhaps. If we do not move on tonight. We still need to get directions to that temple."

"Tomorrow is the plan, I think. We want to get there in daylight." Molly stretches, noting with delight how Caleb watches his movements. "And in the meantime, that inn still doesn't have enough rooms. What _ever_ will we do about that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm living in a happier time. Come see me on tumblr @duckbunny.


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